Flashback
by inktounge
Summary: Sirius has a daughter? What? Did I just say that? Read and find out what I'm talking about, Rated T for language, eventually. 2nd chapter is a flashback.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclamer**: I do not own Harry Potter, I am not J.K. Rowling, I'm not even English, I happen to be American.

A/N: Hey guys! This is my first Harry Potter fanfic. I've been thinking about this for a while now. To get it you have to ignore ignore the fact that Fred was killed in the seventh book and that Sirius supposedly had no relationships (romantic relationships anyway). Hope you like it.

Twenty-four-year-old Harry Potter stood outside thirteen Grimauld Place, staring apprehensively up at the gloomy building that had just materialized out of thin air. He was accompanied by his new wife, Ginny, a delicate-looking, red-haired woman who, for all that she had a slight build, had a strength about her. Standing next to the couple were their two friends, one of which was Ginny's older brother, Ronald Weasly. Just like his sister, he had the trademark Weasly red hair. He was a tall, lanky man with an almost permanent look of slight confusion. The woman beside him was his fiancée, Hermione Granger. She was a somewhat stocky woman with curly, dark brown hair that had managed to tame itself down in the last few years.

"Come on, Harry, you have to go back some time, and we're right here."Ginny murmured to her husband.

""Yeah, come on, mate! It's a _little_ cold out here." Ron said sarcastically.

"All right, all right! Let's go," Harry replied. The four friends made their way up the front stairs and stepped through the cracked and aged door, each of them wearing a look of apprehension on their face.

"Harry and his companions tiptoed through the hideously dusty hallway to the kitchen where they were greeted by one of the most unexpected sights: there was a young woman sitting at the table amid a mountain of old, cracked parchments, yellowing newspapers, and black-and-white photographs.

"Who in bloody hell are you!" Harry yelled at the top of his lungs as he and his friends all pulled out their wands.

"Oh… umm… sorry… am I intruding?"

A'N: What do you think? Please review!


	2. Flashback

_Okay, guys. This is my first update on this story since I published it. I'm really sorry about that but I hate typing up long(ish) documents. I've actually had this chapter written up for a few weeks. Sad, isn't it? This would be one of my favorite chapters becouse of the actual story. Unfortunatley, I think my writing isn't very good this time._

**Author's Note:** I really am sorry about how long it took me to post this. This story is eventually going to take a very interesting twist, if I do say so myself. It will take two or three chapters to get there, though, so please bear with me. **IMPORTANT:** This chapter is a flashback! I wrote a flashback in one of my other stories, and people got confused. So here is Chapter 2. A flashback. This is an important chapter, so please read it and pay attention, it's got some important things in it.

Evelyn Harris slouched over to a seat at the bar and sat down, ordering a hard liquor drink.

Evelyn had just had the worst day _ever_ in her life. She had come all the way from Pulaski, Virginia in the United States to be with her British boyfriend. She had interviewed at the Daily Prophet, the premier Wizarding newspaper in all of England. She was a journalist, and a pretty damn good one, or so she thought.

Her bad day had actually started yesterday.

She had rolled out of bed like usual, even though she was in London and boarding in some muggle two-star, hovel-like establishment loosely termed a hotel. Evelyn was staying at this excuse for an inn so that she would be able to surprise her boyfriend of six months, Ray Gringe, with her presence the next day, when she moved into the Leaky Cauldron, where Ray was supposed to be staying.

She had gotten up, and gotten dressed in her contemporary witch's robes, designed to blend in with muggles and wizards alike. Evelyn and her best friend, Mariah Silkwand, who was living back in the States, had gotten some sort of divine inspiration while still at school at Redwood Academy for Witches and Wizards and had begun designing a line of robes for themselves and all of their friends. Nowadays, Mariah was a rich and famous fashion designer and consultant and had offered Evelyn a job many times, all of which had been graciously turned down. The outfit that Evelyn had chosen for her interview was one of the pair's first designs: a dress-like ensemble that was Evelyn's favorite. The dress was fitted in the bodice and swirly from the hips down with wide, open-ended sleeves. The skirt only came to her knees, providing freedom of movements through busy streets and a modern twist. The outfit was completed by a pair of brown knee-high boots that complimented the plum-colored dress perfectly. A simple gold chain graced Evelyn's throat and small gold buttons marched down the front of the bodice. The entire assembly of clothing was very flattering for the otherwise plain brown-eyed blond. It made the twenty-year-old feel confident and ready to face the unknown.

She Apperated to Diagon Alley and made her way down the crowded street, eventually coming to a door that had the fresh-looking gold letters "Daily Prophet Outpost" printed across the front. Evelyn walked in with only a slight bit of hesitation and made her way up the stairs that the young man at the front desk pointed her towards. She stopped at the third door on the right, just as she was told and knocked. Evelyn opened the door at the sound of a "Come in!" and stepped into the room, feeling her heart drop into the very heels of her boots.

Two nerve-wracking hours later, Evelyn left her worst interview behind her. She knew that she hadn't gotten the job. She had known the moment she saw that sickly-red, pity-filled smirk plastered all over that Skeeter woman's face.

God, she wanted to swat that woman like the horrid, little insect she was.

So much for Evelyn's brilliant journalistic career!

Evelyn forced herself to go back to her cruddy little room at that sad hotel to sleep the rest of her day away.

_The next morning, Evelyn woke up with a head-ache worthy of a hang-over. Too bad it's not caused by liquor, that would have been so much better!_ Evelyn thought sardonically to herself as she struggled to haul herself out of the bed.

She treated herself to a long, steamy shower and dressed herself in simple jeans and a t-shirt, not bothering with Wizarding cloths.

Burdened with a strangely clouded mind, Evelyn made her way to the Leaky Cauldron, intent on finding Ray. When she got there, she was given the strange and somewhat confusing information that Ray was no longer rooming at the Leaky Cauldron. In fact, he hadn't been there for nearly a week. Surprisingly enough, Tom, the barkeep, had the address of Ray's new lodgings: A private residence just outside London.

Evelyn made her way to this mystery place, filled with a sense of trepidation. The house that she found at the address was a small flat, not where she expected to find her supposedly loyal boyfriend. She knocked at the front door. It was answered by the one person that she should have been the most happy to see: Ray, who happened to be dressed in only boxers. Ray stood there with that bewildered look on his handsome face. He managed to stutter out Evelyn's name before a new voice floated to them from the depths of the flat. "Who's at the door, honey?" The voice was sweet, delicate and smooth, and fit the owner perfectly, Evelyn observed as the speaker appeared next to Ray, clad only in silk sheet.

It was at that point that Evelyn left. She couldn't stay after seeing that woman next to Ray. The fears that had been plaguing Evelyn ever since Tom had told her the whereabouts of her supposedly loyal boyfriend. So she left, feeling a very strange, but strong, urge to laugh her head off.

An hour or so later, Evelyn sat at the bar, nursing a gin-and-tonic, laughing and crying into her tumbler, which was dangerously close to being dropped onto the floor. Slowly, she became aware of someone next to her, a man, asking if she was okay.

"Sure I'm okay!" Evelyn slurred, "You wanna know how okay I am? Let me tell you how hiccup I am!" She practically spilled her guts to the stranger sitting next to her. By the end of Evelyn's sorry tale, and the night, she knew exactly three things about the man listening to her:

He was a fabulous listener.

He was absolutely gorgeous. Silky, black, shoulder-length hair, grey eyes, and a gorgeous, sinfully, sexy mouth made up her general picture of the man.

And

He was an amazing kisser.

Evelyn woke up the next morning to two things: An atrocious hang-over and the realization that she had just slept with someone that she had never met before.

Evelyn glanced at the space next to her, and was greeted by that captivating pair of cloudy grey eyes. "Umm… I'm sorry, but what was your name again?" Evelyn asked after a moment.

The man returned her somewhat embarrassed smile with one of his own. "Sirius… Sirius Black. And you are?"

Evelyn broke out in a huge laugh that she regretted a moment later when her body insisted on reminding her of her of exactly how much alcohol she had consumed the night before. "Evelyn Harris. Nice to meet you Sirius Black."

Evelyn and Sirius shared a pleasant lunch and spent the day actually getting to know each other.

Evelyn stayed in London for two weeks, spending as much time with Sirius a possible. A few more tears were shed over Ray, but the cheating bastard was fast becoming a memory as he was replaced by the dashing, caring, and overall wonderful Sirius Black. It was safe to say that the two fell head-over-heels in love with each other.

When Evelyn went back to her beloved States, Sirius fallowed and the two made a happy life for themselves. Sirius was an Auror for the British Ministry for Magic, but his commute was a small issue with floo and Apparation. Evelyn finally accepted Mariah Silkwand's offer and became partners with her best friend in her soon-to-be international fashion company.

Sirius's and Evelyn's lives could not have been better, even with the approaching threat of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Their life together was fabulous until Sirius received news that Voldemort was going after Sirius's best friend's new-born son. With a heavy heart, Sirius returned to the UK to help protect the Potters.

He left Evelyn, fully intending to come back. He never made it back, though. He never managed to see Evelyn again. He never knew that six months after he left, Evelyn gave birth to baby girl with black hair and grey eyes.

**A/N:** So? What do you all think? Personally, I think my writing was pretty shoddy, but you tell me what you think. In other words, please Review!

Thank you **to The Nighttime Sky- **tou were my first reviewer! I love you! I mean I would love you if I knew who you were.

**amorentiaaa-** no, that young woman was not Sirius's past lover. She's a little too young for that. Care to make another guess after reading this chapter? Thank you for pointing out my mistakes, too.

**Bookflower-** thank you so much! you were the review that forced me to update! I hope you liked this chapter.


	3. Riviera Harris

**Disclamer:** Obviously I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, there would be an awful lot of people that I would not have killed.

I guess I'm back to writing for this sight now. Sorry to anyone who's actually reading. Summer kind of got in the way. Besides that, I seem to have a habit of starting a story and not finishing. I hope to change that, but it's harder than I thought.

At the moment I'm stuck in a bit of a mind-block. School is going to start tomarrow and I'll have even less time on the computer than I did over the summer, so updates will be even slower than they have been, so I apologize.

--

The young woman, obviously surprised, startled even, but not particularly scared, quickly stood up and raised her hands in a gesture of peace. "My name is Rivieara Harris." She said calmly, looking straight at Harry. She spoke with a distinctly American accent "I'm not here for anything… bad. I'm doing an investigation."

"An investigation on what, exactly," that came from Hermione, always one of the outspoken.

"My father."

"And your father is who?"

The young woman seemed to be fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "Sirius Black. Why else would I be _here_."

--(this is my line, obviosly)--

It took a while, and Riviera was patience was obviously beginning to wear thin, but the four friends managed to rehinge their jaws and get over their shock. One might have expected Harry and his friends to accuse the young American woman of lying, but somehow they all knew that she spoke the truth. Harry, after sitting down couldn't stop staring at Riviera. He had to admit, there was something that reminded him of his long-dead god-father. Maybe it was the black hair or gray eyes; maybe it was the almost smirk that played across the girls lips.

Ron suddenly blurted out, as was his habit, "When- I mean-How did Sirius end up with a kid?" Ron managed to stumble through that sentence and received a dirty look from Hermione who fallowed it by an exasperated roll of the eyes.

Riviera on the other hand just burst out laughing. "You should probably know that by now, Ronald Weasly. If you don't you and your- wife? - may have some issues."

"We're not married yet" Hermione managed to get in before Ron gritted out "you know what I meant."

"Fiancée then. And, yes, I did know what you meant, Mr. Weasly." Riviera smoothly acknowledged her mistake and replied to Ron's remark. "That question is probably answered best by my mother, but seeing how it took her eighteen years just to tell _me, _I doubt she'll be very forthcoming with the information, so my story will have to do." Riviera sighed. "I would suggest moving to another room, but everywhere in this house is either just as or more dusty that in here."

"My mother was visiting London and happened to meet Sirius Black in the Leaky Cauldron. My mother happened to be a little drunk and so was Sirius. What would have been a simple and somewhat random one-night-stand actually turned into a real relationship. Sirius returned to the U.S. with Mom and spent about two months with her. That was when the war with Voldemort was really heating up in England, though, and Sirius ended up going back to England to help as an Auror. I was born right after he was arrested. Supposedly, Mom and him actually loved each other, but…." She trailed off, absorbed in her own thoughts. "Mom never told me about him. When I asked who my father was, she always just avoided the question. There's no one in the world better at avoiding something than my mother. She wouldn't explain anything until after I'd graduated from school."

"That's it?" Ginny blurted. "That's all there is too it? Your mother and Sirius had a one might stand and fell in love? That's not only extremely cliché, but somewhat unbelievable." Ginny hadn't said much throughout the whole 'figuring out who this strange American is' thing. In fact, she had spoken once before and that had been to ask if they could believe Riviera. It was most unlike Ginny, who happened to be one of the most trusting of the group.

"That's what I asked when Mom told me. She just laughed and told me that falling in love is usually a very cliché situation. Any questions? I might be able to answer a few of them."

"Yes, I have one. You're what, twenty- three?-"

"Twenty-four."

"Sorry, twenty-four. Why are you coming here just now? Why not earlier?" Hermione asked.

"Mother wouldn't let me come until the war was completely and officially over." Riviera shrugged. "There was no rush after what happened nine years ago, so I busied myself with education and a job and came when I was able. And seeing as Sirius was already dead, like I said, there was no rush."

Harry suddenly remembered something. "How did you get into the house? I thought no one was supposed to know where it is."

"Oh, Sirius told Mom before he left. I figured it was the best place to start researching the man." Pausing for a moment, she continued. "Actually, now that you're here, I can just ask you guys some questions. I was probably going to have to track you down later, but this saves me quite a bit of time."

Ron actually groaned and the four others laughed dissolving the last of the tension in the room.

--

After this chapter, things begin to part ways with the books. In one very small way though. I'm only bringing one person back to life. Anyone like to guess who it is? Anyway...

I have to admit, this is not one off my best chapters. Better than the last one though. Comments, anyone? Come now, speak up, I don't bite, I promise... at least not much...


	4. Meeting the Family

**A/N: **Alrighty then, here is chapter four. I hope it isn't as confusing and horrible as I think it is. I failed to run it through my normal editing service, so sorry.

**Disclaimer:** I really wish I did, but I don't own Harry Potter. I do, however, own Riviera. I don't even own the kids! Well, their names, anyway. I got to get creative with the personalities, though! It makes me feel special.....

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"So my father was a lying, cheating, man-whore of a bastard while he was in school? What a surprise!"

Riviera had spent the last three days at the Burrow, plying the enormous Weasley family for information and being constantly told by Molly Weasley that she was much too skinny. The fact that Sirius Black had been a notorious ladies man during his seven years at Hogwarts was just one of the many tidbits of information that Riviera had picked up in that time.

Riviera had slipped into the Weasley family life surprisingly well. In fact, she had met all but two of the Weasleys for all that she had been there for such a short time.

First, there was Bill, the eldest of the Weasley sons. Bill must have been extremely handsome before the war with Voldemort. He was tall, though not quite as lofty as Ron was, and had the Weasley red hair. His hair, however, was long, falling just past his shoulders. Bill usually wore it in a ponytail at the base of his neck. Unfortunately, his face was now seamed by a rather spectacular set of scars.

Bill's wife's features, however, more than made up for his marred face. Fleur Delacour, though she did now go as Fleur Weasley, was as stunning as she was willful. Her silvery blond hair cascaded down her back in gently curling waves. Fleur had large ice blue eyes that were at once soft and suspicious. She had greeted Riviera with a haughty and nearly offended "And zis creature iz who?" The couple had a daughter and was expecting another within a few months. Victoire, who was about four, was already making it quite apparent that her she would one day possess her mother's stupendous beauty. She was a precocious child, and Riviera found her extremely loveable, if hard to handle.

Charlie was the next Weasley son. Riviera had me him one. He still worked in Romania with dragons, as he had during the War. He was a stout man, somewhat stocky and extremely strong. One could not say that Charlie was particularly good looking, but his open face had a very attractive quality. Riviera had yet to determine why it was that Charlie had no romantic attachments. Not that Riviera was interested, but she was quite curious.

Then there was Percy. Percy was a gangly man with tousled fly-a-way red hair. Percy, for all that he was obviously very intelligent, had a very scatter-brained sort of personality; it was quite endearing. Riviera figured out very quickly that Percy liked to make people think he was somewhat smarter than he was. He wasn't a bad person in any way, Percy just liked to too his own horn, as it were. When Molly had first heard Riviera describe Percy's antics in that manner, she had been flabbergasted. Then, after a moment, Molly had burst into laughter. After subduing her gales of laughter, Molly had used the American figure of speech so often that Riviera nearly regretting introducing it to the older woman.

Audrey, Percy's supposedly darling little wife, was currently visiting her grandparents in Ireland. As a direct result, Percy was over at his parents' house every night, regaling anyone who listened, and a great many would people who flat out refused to, with stories of what a horrendous disaster he was in the kitchen. He also brought along his daughter, Molly.

It occurred to Riviera that after having so many boys in the family, it was only fitting that the Weasleys become overrun by a host of mischievous little girls.

Riviera already knew Ron, obviously. She had figured out fast that while Ron wasn't always the brightest crayon in the box, he was one of the most loyal people on earth. Riviera had taken an immediate like to Ronald, who was remarkably easy to tease.

Hermione Granger, unlike her darling husband-to –be, was extremely intelligent. She and Riviera had hit it off splendidly. While Riviera was asking questions about her father's last years of life, the young American was answering queries about her own culture and magic.

Ginny, the youngest of the large and widespread Weasley family, hadn't really liked Riviera at first. She had been suspicious, as Riviera had expected. Ginny had been prone to asking Riviera random and occasionally awkward questions at indiscriminate moments. After a few of these, Riviera had quietly and calmly taken Ginny aside and told the other woman that she was in no way a threat to her family and asked if she would please stop pestering Riviera, it was getting more than a little unsettling. After that, Ginny and Riviera had been nearly the best of friends.

There were supposed to be two more sons. Molly had gotten very quite when the subject of her twin boys came up. Riviera had to look elsewhere for an explanation. Bill had finally been the one to explain. The elder of the twins, Fred, had been killed during the Final Battle in the war. His brother, George, had not yet fully recovered from the loss. George had practically severed the ties to his family. Somehow, he managed to keep Weasley Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop that Fred and George had opened, open and thriving. He had retreated to his flat above his shop. He was seen at the Burrow about once every three months.

"Everyone was tolerant of it at first." Bill had said, practically whispering so Molly would not over hear. "It was understandable. Fred and George were practically one person, they were so close." He had sighed at that point. "After six years though…."

"Yeah, I think I kind of understand." Riviera had murmured. Riviera had felt a very tangible change in the atmosphere around the family members. It had faded after a few hours, returning to the normal jovial atmosphere, but Riviera had a slightly different picture of the family now. She had realized that not all was happiness now.

She did manage to convince Ron to tell some stories about the twins. Most were hilarious tales of practical jokes and obscene gags. They were all very interesting. Fred and George had apparently authored so much trouble that they spent as much time figuring out how they were going to get out of it as they were for creating it.

By the end of the second day, Riviera realized that she was asking less and less questions about her father than she was about George and the family's past.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Riviera, would you mind terribly helping us watch the kids?"

Stifling a sigh, Riviera replied "Of course not!" The sigh had not been because Riviera didn't enjoy looking after the rambunctious Victoire and the ever-so-curious Molly, but because the girls were so tiring. On her first day at the Burrow, Riviera had enjoyed an amazing production of table- ballet, a symphony of broken dishes, and a squalling match that a category five hurricane would have been proud of. Who knew what else the two Weasley grandchildren had in store for their baby-sitters.

Victoire, like her mother, was a naturally haughty creature. You would never find the four-year-old digging in the dirt or taunting the gnomes in the Burrow's enormous garden. The child had silvery red hair and her mother's angelic blue eyes. Victoire already possessed the talent to use those big, innocent, azure eyes to get her out of trouble and mislead strangers into believing that she was as angelic as she looked. If anyone was taken in by those looks, though, they would be very sorry indeed for their mistake. Victoire was…..rambunctious, to say the least.

Little Molly, named for her grandmother, on the other hand, was somewhat easier to handle than her cousin was, if only because she wasn't to the point of yelling and screaming when she didn't get her way. Molly was more inclined to crawl into a corner and pout. It was quite a wonder that little Molly preferred treating people to the cold shoulder rather than shrieking her head off. The child was only two after all. She looked more like a Weasley, too. She had flaming red hair that stuck out from around her head in a halo of fire. Her eyes were brown shot with bright green and amber, a gift from her mother Audrey. Molly was a naturally curious creature. Where Victoire held herself above playing in the dirt, Molly could be found up to her knees in a mud puddle.

All of this Riviera found out in three long, tiring and incredibly enjoyable days.

Riviera rose from the desk in her barrowed bedroom and made her way down the narrow, winding stairway to the rather large and much cluttered den. Already manning their battle stations were a tired looking Hermione, an ethereal Fleur and the wary Ginny. All three were quite aware of what was to come.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After three exhausting hours, Riviera's long black hair was matted with flour, her hands were coated with molasses, and her face was covered in a huge, self-satisfied smirk. Molly and Victoire were finally tuckered out and the two youngsters had dozed off leaving their parents and baby-sitters to clean up the mess they had made.

Currently, the five women were attacking the kitchen with mops, soapy rags, and a broom. The terrible 'twins' had decided to attempt 'cooking' and had come up with a rather artful creation of sugar, salt and pepper, the aforementioned flour and molasses, and raw bacon.

"Ugh, this is so disgusting!" Ginny exclaimed. "Mum, did I ever get into this much of a mess?"

"Not exactly like this, dear. You were a deceptively sweet child. Hermione, would you mind wiping down that plate for me?"

"Just put in the tub with all the other dishes. No, not that one. The one with all the soapy water."

"Oh, sorry dear," The older made to move the dripping plate into the proper bucket.

"Where iz Miz Riviera?" Fleur inquired. The young mother had just realized that the other woman was missing.

"Don't worry, here I am!" Riviera appeared from around the corner, emerging from the hallway. "I had to find something. Hopefully it will make our lives just a little bit easier for the time being."

The four other women looked at her. "Look, if I explain it to you now, you won't go for it."

"Well, I don't know…." Molly eyebrows were drawn together, her expression skeptical.

"Please? I have tried this before."

"What exactly are you planning, is it an American spell?" Hermione asked from her place at the kitchen sink.

"Well of course it is! I highly doubt Riviera, being American would be doing something, I don't know, Arabic!" Ginny couldn't resist the sarcastic opportunity presented by Hermione's question.

"Actually, the spell I want to do is a modified version of a Scottish spell with a Middle Eastern twist."

Ginny merely rolled her eyes.

"I suppose it would be all right." Molly still looked doubtful, but there was a slightly curious twinkle in her eye. "You can't make this mess any worse."

"Yay!" Riviera squealed, jumping up and down and clapping her hand. "What?" She asked when she received some rather concerned looks from Hermione, Ginny, Molly, and Fleur.

"Are you sure you've tried this before?" Ginny inquired.

"Of course! I just hope this time goes better than last time, I'd rather not make the stove explode agian." The last part was said to herself.

"What!" Molly had cought the last part of that statement.

"Nevermind!" Riviera cringed slightly, thinking to herself _I still have to apologize to Aunt Mariah for that!_

"Wait, if your doing a spell, where's your wand?" Hermione inquired.

"Oh! I guess I haven't explained that." Riviera frowned for a moment. "American magicians don't use wands. We have a rather different approac to magic than the Europeans. Our methods for magic use are formed mostly by Native American, both Northern and Southern, methods. Most of which don't require a wand." She paused for a moment. "Most of the spells we use don't require a wand. And that's okay with us, relly. In fact, during the witch hunts a few centuries ago, one of the tell tale signs that the hunters looked for was a wand, so even the European based witches and wizards stopped using wands. It was dangerous to carry one." Another pause, "After a school was founded for all American wizarding children, the use of focus objects, because that's all wands really are, was confined to only special spells. The use of wands in the Americas is nearly nonexistant nowadays." Riviera shrugged.

Hermione opened her mouth, preparing for another question when Molly cut her off. "Come on Hermione, Riviera will be here for quite a while, you can aske her all the questions you want, but later. Let her do whatever spell she wants to try _before_ the children wake up!"

Riviera nearly missed Fleur's muttered "Crazy American" in her excitement. Her reply startled a small laugh from the haughty Frenchwoman: "Well of course I'm crazy, I'm here aren't I? Now could you please vacate the room for the moment?"

The others followed her instructions as Riviera moved into the room. They were all extremely perplexed when they say her pull out a small pouch with a drawstring and a strange symbol on the front. They became even more confused when Riviera began sprinkling what appeared to be a concoction of crumpled leaves across the two doorways leading into the large kitchen along with the sills of all of the windows. They nearly missed how she was muttering all the while.

Ginny, Fleur, and Molly turned to Hermione for possible explanation only to find that the bushy haired woman was scribbling franticly in a huge notebook.

They turned back in time to see Riviera pull out a small but thick book with a leather cover and the words 'The New Homemaker's Guide' embossed in gold leaf across the front. They couldn't hear her even though she was no more than five feet away from where they were standing and looked as if she should be speaking very loudly. Fleur reached out toward the air above the line formed by the crumbled leaves. Then her hand stopped. It couldn't pass the line. At all. "What iz zis?!" The part-veela shrilled, "what iz zis magic?'

The four didn't have a chance to ponder the strange barrier blocking off the kitchen as the room was suddenly filled with a flurry of dark green sparks that blew flew the room coloring an otherwise invisible wind. The invisible force filled the room with a translucent veil that made it nearly impossible to see through to what was going on inside the kitchen.

Just as suddenly as it came, the green cloud was gone and the Burrow's kitchen was again visible. The women's jaws dropped, including Riviera's.

Riviera trotted over to her barrier and scuffed part of it away with her foot. The others moved into the kitchen, staring around them. The kitchen was cleaner than it had ever been. The dishes were all in their places and the misplaced food was back in the pantry and stashed away in the icebox. The counters litterally sparkled with cleanliness.

"How in the world did you do this," Molly asked.

"I followed the directions!

"What the bloody hell is going on here?!" The five women swung around to face the speaker, a tall young man with flaming red hair.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

George Weasley let himself let himself into his childhood home. He sniffed deeply, swallowing the scents that came along with the house. He had been gone for quite a long time. Everything in this house reminded him of Fred, and that just squashed any hope George might have had of recovering from the loss of his twin.

George headed for the kitchen, the area of the house that his mother was most likely to inhabit.

He walked in, approaching it like normal, when he walked into an invisible wall where the open doorway was supposed to be. What he saw through the barrier was his sister, his mother, and two of his sisters-in-law and a tall, black haired woman that looked vaguely familiar, standing in the middle of an uncommonly clean Weasley kitchen.

George tried once again to walk through the door way and once again failed. The red head glanced down and saw a line of crumbled leaves across the door.

"What the bloody hell is going in here?!" He yelled. The women turned around, surprise wreathing all of their faces and alarm touched the black haired woman's features.

"George! How nice to see you," his mother cried.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**A/N: **So... What do you think?...... Horrible? Awful? Simply atrocious? COme on now, if I can get creative with insulting my own work, so can you! Seriously, I have to admit, this is a pretty dismal chapter. I really don't like it at all, but I had to post something! And before I get yelled at for 'Inflicting the public with something that even I don't like, I should be ashamed myself!', let me plead my my case! I've been working on another fic that I've decided I will write at least four chapters on my computer before publishing any of them. That way I don't have this problem. I have been devoting most of my concentration to that other fic, wich is why I'm convinced this one is so shoddy.

Well, it doesn't really matter what I think, so... What was that? Sorry, I can't hear you. Please, speak up!


End file.
